And Eventually You'll Come to Me, I Know You Will
by Vita Fidens
Summary: Sequel to "Damage Me to Feed Your Senses." Liz Moore is in a bad way after yet another encounter with Dean Ambrose. With nowhere to turn but back to the man who did this to her, how can she cope? Rated M: Language, sex, violence.
1. Chapter 1

I woke up alone.

I was dressed in panties and a t-shirt. The sheets had been tucked in between the bottom of the mattress and the box spring. My pillows all had cases on them.

Everything was undisturbed.

I briefly thought that I'd had some kind of horrible dream. Then I rolled over onto my back and had to bite my lip to keep from screaming in pure anguish.

Mr. Ambrose certainly knew how to leave his mark.

I clenched my teeth and did my best to stand up. The world swam for a few minutes, my legs still shaky from the way he'd grabbed them last night. That coupled with being slightly woozy and nauseous from the sudden influx of pain made me about as steady on my feet as a toddler taking his first steps.

I stumbled my way to my kitchen, wrenching open the cabinet where I kept the Advil. With shaking hands, I tried to pop the top and failed miserably. Forcing myself to take a deep breath, I finally got it open and crammed four pills into my mouth, swallowing them dry.

I glanced around the kitchen for any signs that he'd been there.

There was nothing. Even the bottle of wine and the dead bouquet were gone. My front door was locked.

It would be easy for me to believe that I'd simply had a nightmare if it weren't for the pain.

I very slowly made my way to my bathroom, gently lifting my shirt with my back turned towards the mirror, my neck craning over my shoulder to survey the damage.

An abstract art piece of red and black stared back at me, large welts interspersed with bruises and deep gashes from the buckle.

"Holy shit," I muttered, unable to believe that this was my body I was seeing. "Holy shit."

I swayed standing up, the world washing into tones of gray before my eyes. I hobbled the few steps out into the hallway and got close enough to fling myself facedown onto my bed in the adjacent bedroom.

I lay there for a long time, considering my options.

I could call an ambulance. They would get me to the hospital and give me some great pain medication. The doctor would want to know what had happened. I would have to relive the whole thing in ghastly detail. They would call the police. I'd have to relive it again. Ambrose would be arrested. It would be my word against his. He'd get off scot-free on lack of definitive evidence. He would come and hurt me worse the next time, maybe even kill me.

Ambulance was out, then. I at least knew enough to know that I enjoyed being alive every morning I woke up.

My second option was to call someone else. My traveling around had left me with friends all over – but unfortunately, none nearby in Stamford. I didn't want Heyman to see me like this, and Punk was back in Chicago for all I knew. Not that either of them was a feasible option, honestly – I was deeply ashamed and embarrassed by my current state. I'd let Ambrose in last night. I should have expected this, and they would think the same thing. I couldn't go to them for help.

So, option three. Sleep it off and pray for a natural death instead of a brutal murder.

Suddenly, a light bulb went off over my head. There was someone in the area. Someone who knew the whole story and someone who couldn't judge me. Even if they did, I didn't really give a flying fuck.

I hated to do it, but I was desperate.

I pulled myself along the bed enough to reach my nightstand, where my phone sat waiting.

I hesitated a few moments once it was in my grasp – I really did not want to see him again. Then, another wave of pain shot up my back so severe that I almost blacked out. I had no choice.

Gritting my teeth, I dialed Ambrose's number.


	2. Chapter 2

"Liz," he answered cautiously, sounding deceptively human. "What's up?"

"Are you still in Stamford?" I asked, mentally pleading with him to have stayed put.

"I was just going to start making my way back to Cincinnati."

"Please don't," the words tumbled out of my mouth. "Please come back here. I am in a really bad way, and I don't have anyone else I can call."

Frustrated tears came to my eyes. Here I was, begging the psychopath who had done this to me to come back. I seriously needed to reevaluate my life choices.

He was quiet for a few minutes. "Tell me why I should," he finally said.

"Because you're the one who did this to me," I said, hearing the shrill hysteria in my voice. "You put me here, Dean. For God's sake."

"You put _me_ in a position that I didn't want to be in. I had to take care of it myself. I suggest you gain a little bit of independence, Elizabeth. Pull yourself up by your bootstraps. You're a tough girl. You'll manage just fine."

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone for a long time, a black rage building up inside of me. I was angry with Ambrose, of course – but I was angrier with myself.

What had I expected? That he'd rush to my side like some superhero bounding into a burning building? It had been a stupid notion, and one that he'd be able to hold over my head for a long time to come.

I wasn't in the habit of asking for help. The one time in recent memory that I had, and I'd asked Dean fucking Ambrose. Poor judgment at its best.

I tried to take a few deep breaths. Beating myself up emotionally wasn't going to do me a damn bit of good right now. I could take some time and think my way out of this when my thoughts weren't covered by a red haze of pain. I needed to deal with the situation at hand.

That, of course, required thought. I buried my face in the pillow, defeated.

"Option three it is," I muttered, and went about trying to make myself comfortable.

After about half an hour, the Advil had dulled the pain enough that I was able to slip into a fitful sleep.

It seemed like only minutes later that I felt my shirt being peeled away from my back.

I jumped and went to pull away, but an arm across my upper back held me down.

"Relax," a familiar scratchy voice said. "You're fine. It's me."

I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or more concerned. "I thought you weren't coming."

"Did I ever say that?" He asked, sitting on the bed beside me. In a few moments, he started rubbing something medicinal into the welts and bruises. It smelled like death and hurt like hell, but after a few minutes everything started to simply go numb.

The tension in my shoulders ratcheted down, and the fog that had covered my brain as a direct result of my physical agony slowly started to subside. I closed my eyes and exhaled completely, feeling entirely exhausted.

I could feel the bed shift beside me, and Ambrose's breath was suddenly blowing through my hair.

"Why did you come back?" I asked.

He was quiet for a few moments. "I couldn't let you suffer too much after what you did for me last night," he finally said, his fingers running through my hair. "I finally got some fucking sleep. I realized after the fact that I was probably a little too rough with you – that's something that needs to be built up over time."

"Are you sure it wasn't that you wanted to see me in pain now?" I asked, barely listening to his exposition. I had my own theories.

"I like the fight in you, Lizzy. I like it when you're a wounded, vicious dog fighting for your life. This…you're just helpless. It's not nearly as fun for me."

I very slowly turned my head to look at him to gauge his sincerity. Not that I'd ever had much luck doing that to begin with.

I watched him in silence for a few moments, trying to see the truth in his flat blue eyes.

"Calling you was a mistake," I said slowly, trying to see what reaction he would have. "I was desperate."

"You still are," he replied, not unkindly. "This was my doing. I'll stay here until you're on your feet again."

"I don't want you here."

"That's too bad."


	3. Chapter 3

I slept for most of the day. Every time I woke up, Ambrose was there in bed with me, simply watching me. If I hadn't been so preoccupied I probably would have found that terrifying.

I finally awoke for good when the sun was setting.

"I need to get up," I said, my voice rough.

He didn't say anything. He stood and came around to my side of the bed, offering his hands and pulling me to my feet. The world spun, and I nearly sat back down – but Ambrose held me up.

We slowly made our way out to the kitchen, where I managed to wave him off enough to make something to eat. I was still in pain, but the more I moved the better I felt.

After I'd eaten, I tried to send him away again. He simply stared at me for a minute before shaking his head abruptly.

"Fine," I huffed, irritated as I planted my hands on my table and pushed myself to my feet.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket in his t-shirt.

"I need a shower. I feel disgusting."

He stood up, tucking his unlit cigarette behind his ear. "Lead the way," he said, a small smile touching his lips.

"You can stay here. I'll be fine."

"What kind of guardian would I be if I let you go by yourself and you wound up even more injured? No. I'll come with you. I don't want that on my conscience."

"You don't have a conscience, Ambrose."

"All the same. I'm coming with you, Lizzy."

I closed my eyes. I didn't want to argue. Standing up was starting to hurt, and I knew that the faster I got this over with the better.

I didn't bother to give him a response. I just walked down the hall to my bathroom and started the water.

As I moved – very slowly – to take my shirt off, hands caught mine from behind and Ambrose started undressing me. My upper back pressed against his chest, which was already bare. He bent down and planted a kiss on my shoulder, moving up to my neck.

"Stop," I said, uncomfortably squirming away from him.

His hand gripped my chin and pulled it back, exposing my neck. He began kissing me more intensely, his teeth lightly scraping against my skin.

I heard him unfasten his belt buckle and involuntarily shuddered, feeling a very real wave of terror wash over me.

He laughed in my ear. "I'm not going to use it, Lizzy. Not unless you make me."

"I thought you didn't like it when I didn't put up a fight?"

"You're standing here half-naked. Mentally I might prefer you less docile, but sexually…all I need is to stand right here by you, surrounded by your scent–" He paused, pressing his nose into my hair and inhaling deeply. A soft, contented sigh escaped his lips as he pulled away slightly. "– and it turns me on in a way even I don't understand."

He pulled my hair away from the other side of my neck and began kissing me there. "Do I turn you on, Lizzy? Do you like it when I do this?"

"Dean," I replied, trying to keep my voice calm and even, "you beat me nearly to unconsciousness with your belt last night so you could have an orgasm. I'm finding it very difficult to be turned on by you right now."

He hesitated. "But I do turn you on other times?"

I shook my head. He wasn't getting it. I spared both of us my sarcastic reply and finished undressing as quickly as I could, stepping into the shower and beginning to scrub myself vigorously. I wanted to crawl back into my bed and forget that today had ever happened.

After a few moments, Ambrose joined me in the shower. He didn't say anything, but he kept up his touching and kissing, growing bolder with time.

When he reached in between my thighs, I abruptly turned the water off and stepped out, wrapping a towel around myself glaring back at him.

"No, Ambrose. I think it's time for you to leave."

He stared at me through his wet strands of hair. "I'm not going anywhere, Lizzy. You begged me to come back. I'm here. You're just going to have to deal with me."

He stepped out of the shower as well and began lightly pushing me towards the bedroom.

"I'll take it easy on you," he murmured next to my ear before shoving me down onto the bed.


	4. Chapter 4

The only good thing I could see was that Ambrose didn't last long. As a result, there was no time for him to attempt to give me more bruises.

He sighed, lying on his back beside me. "That must have been disappointing for you," he said. "Do you want me to help you finish?"

"No."

He reached over and tousled my hair. "I was expecting to last a bit longer. I came so hard last night that I actually blacked out for a few seconds. It was very intense."

"Congratulations."

He sighed. "I'm trying to be nice, Lizzy. I got carried away last night. I know that. But if you would just come around and give me what I want – what I know we both want – things like that wouldn't need to happen."

"What do you want, Ambrose? To fuck me? You just did. I am giving you what you want. I'm _still_ getting my ass kicked."

He shook his head. "I don't want to just fuck you, and you know that. I told you that I wanted you – you, with all your rage and faults and deceptively malicious intelligence. I want the challenge of being with _you_."

I turned to look at him for a moment. "It's never going to happen, Dean."

"Why not?"

"You're not boyfriend material," I replied dryly.

His lips flicked into an expression of disdain for only a moment. "You mean I'm not the boring 'adult relationship' types you usually go for. You were bored and you were unhappy. You wouldn't be either with me."

"No, I'd just be in constant pain."

He shook his head vehemently. "No. I could train your body to take it. I could train your body to love what I do to you."

"I don't ever want to love what you do to me," I spat back. "And I don't ever want to be with you. Get it through your thick skull. I do not want you."

I could see anger creep into his eyes, and he gave a small shrugging motion, his head twitching before settling back into its normal position.

"I don't care what you want. One way or another, it's going to be you and me standing together at the end of the world. My twisted soul will escort yours through the gates of Hell. We're fated, sweetheart. Don't you ever doubt that."

I stared at him for a few moments, disbelieving what I was hearing as I so often did with Ambrose. "Get out," I finally said softly.

The right corner of his mouth turned upwards. "I'm not leaving without giving you something to remember me by."

He moved so quickly. I didn't know how only a week apart could make me forget that.

I was on my stomach, Ambrose's weight resting on top of mine. He kicked my legs apart and I felt his fingers very gently start probing me.

I tried to pull away from him, and he slapped the flat of his hand on my lower back. I yelped in pain, tears coming to my eyes.

"I tried so hard to be nice to you, Elizabeth. I just want you to be satisfied. Why do you always fight me?" He sighed heavily, as if the weight of the world had fallen on his shoulders because I wasn't feeling up to getting fingered by a lunatic. "Keep still and just enjoy what's happening to you."

His fingers increased their pressure and eventually he shifted his position on the bed to rest beneath me, pulling me down onto his face.

I could feel my body shaking against my will when he slipped away from me and returned to leaning over my back. "Do you know that I'm hard again?" He murmured in my ear, taking my hand and guiding it back to his dick so I could feel it for myself. "I want nothing more than to be inside of you right now – but I still don't think I'd last long enough to make you come. I don't know what it is about you lately, Lizzy."

He moved away from me and stood, leaning over to open up my bedside drawer. I had a moment of confusion thinking he was looking for a condom. Instead, to my horror, he pulled out two of my vibrators.

"Which is your favorite?" He asked, holding them both out for me.

I glanced up at him, unsure, and he nodded encouragingly. I hesitated a few moments, and he slapped me in the face with one of them.

"Pick," he growled.

I pointed to the one that hadn't just been used as a bludgeon.

He got back behind me, and after a minute I heard an electric humming noise start. He gently started to run it through my lips, teasing my clit with it before he adjusted his position on the bed again. He kept the vibration on the hood while he sucked on my actual clit, and I found myself rocking against his face against my will.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of this oddly-satisfying torture, he pushed the vibrator deep inside of me while his tongue continued to work.

It took me less than a minute of that stimulation to have an orgasm, my body trembling violently.

Ambrose slowed for only a few seconds before resuming his previous pace. Within five minutes, I came twice more.

He pulled away, allowing me to collapse onto the bed. He rolled me on to my back so I could watch him wipe his face with his forearm before he slid his dick inside of me.

My eyes rolled into the back of my head. I couldn't help myself – my body was primed; it was ready to have another orgasm, and Ambrose was giving me the stimulation required to do that. I tried, in the few rational thoughts I had, to not beat myself up for that too much.

He lasted only a few minutes longer than he had the first time, both of us coming at the same time.

"Do you still want me to leave?" He panted as he pushed deeper inside of me one last time.

"Yes," I whispered, all of the emotions finally catching up with me. I started crying almost immediately; a deep, inconsolable sobbing.

This couldn't be my life. My life was sane. My life made sense. My life wasn't full of bruises and rape. My life wasn't full of orgasms that I didn't want from men that I couldn't stand. There was no way that this was my reality right now.

"Cut that shit out," Ambrose snarled. "You wanted that from me just as badly as I wanted to give it to you. Quit being such a punk bitch."

I wiped my eyes furiously and rolled onto my side away from him, letting my sniffling subside after a few minutes.


	5. Chapter 5

He had stormed out a few minutes after he was done, and I could smell cigarette smoke wafting back into the bedroom.

I tried to calm myself, wrapping my arms around my chest and rocking my body back and forth. I abandoned this course of action when I realized that I probably looked like a patient in a mental ward. I began to slowly relive the last two days with an odd sense of detachment.

After a long time, Dean finally came back and crawled into the bed beside me. He wrapped his arm around my stomach, pressing his body against mine. He lightly kissed my shoulder blade, running his fingers through my hair.

I waited a few moments before my curiosity finally got the better of me. "How did you get back in here today?" I asked, surprised at how calm my voice was. "The door was locked."

He was quiet for a few minutes. "You really didn't keep a very close eye on your keys when you were running Raw."

I closed my eyes. "How many times have you been here?"

"More than you'd probably like to know about."

I shook my head. In the slow recall of my horror, I'd realized that Ambrose knew his way around far too well. He even knew where I kept my vibrators. It might have been a lucky guess, but he'd seemed confident when he opened that drawer.

"Have you ever come by when I was here?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering in a very subdued voice, his fingers trailing over my shoulder. "You moan in your sleep and turn away when I touch you. You're very annoyed by my intrusions, but you never wake up."

I felt the breath rush out of my lungs. I had expected that on some level, but hearing it aloud still shocked me.

"I sleep best at night when I sleep next to you. I don't understand it, Lizzy. I've tried to understand it. I've tried to stop feeling this way. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm still me, I'm still…. I still like it when I can make you suffer. But I want to be around you when you're not suffering, too. I want both, and I can't have both."

I swallowed hard. "No, Ambrose. You can't have both. I'd really prefer it if you had neither."

He viciously punched the pillow beside my head, and I jumped.

"You can't be that way, Elizabeth. You just can't. You need to give me something."

"I've already given you more than enough, you fucking monster." I pulled myself up out of the bed, crossing my arms over my chest to cover my breasts. "Now get out."

He stared at me for a minute, his expression unreadable. Finally, he stood and made his way to the bathroom. I heard the sounds of him dressing, having to repress a shudder when I heard the belt being buckled.

I shook myself out of it and quickly went to my dresser, pulling out a clean pair of panties and a shirt. I was appropriately covered by the time he came back.

"Don't think for a minute that this is over, Elizabeth," he said slowly, standing in my doorway with his forearm propped against the frame. "This isn't going to be over until I get what I want." He stepped towards me. "And believe me when I say that I _will_ get what I want. If I have to break your body to do it; if I have to cripple you to keep you with me I swear to Christ that I will."

"You won't have the chance," I replied, refusing to back away from him.

He gave me a tight-lipped smile. "We'll just see, won't we?" He asked, pulling something from his pocket and dangling it in front of my face. After my gaze focused, I could see that it was a set of keys – I suspected they went to my door.

"Sleep tight, sweetheart. I'll be back when you've had some time to consider your options."

He grabbed me around the waist roughly, his nails digging into the welts and bruises he'd given me. Without saying another word he kissed me, forcing his tongue into my mouth. I refused to respond, and after a minute he pulled away from me and walked out the door.

I listened as he walked down the hallway, through the living room, through the kitchen, and opened my front door. He finally walked out, and I could hear the keys jingling as he locked the door behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

I wasn't going to sit there and wait for him to come back. That seemed to be asking for more trouble than I'd already gotten myself into.

I got dressed and drove to the nearest hardware store. They were, of course, closed. So I drove to the twenty-four hour megastore and wandered through their meager hardware section, finally finding a doorknob with a new lock. I also picked up a chain lock on a whim, although I doubted that either of these would deter Ambrose if he was truly set on coming in.

Still…it would at least let me sleep tonight, until I could go and buy better hardware and a new deadbolt.

I moved through the checkout as quickly as possible, shooting down the clerk's attempts at small talk. I felt as if I was going to lose it at any moment, and I was trying so hard to simply keep myself from crying.

I managed to hold it together until I got home. I had pulled the old doorknob off and found myself struggling to get the new one on correctly. Part of the problem was that my hands were shaking uncontrollably. The other part was that my little outing had set my back on fire, and I couldn't focus around the pain.

I threw down the screwdriver and sat with my arms curled around my knees, rocking back and forth while I sobbed.

A small voice broke into my sad, pathetic thoughts. I couldn't let Ambrose win. I needed to calm down and get this done. I could worry about the rest tomorrow, but I needed to make sure I was safe for tonight.

It settled me a little bit – enough to figure out the new lock, at least. I felt immense relief as I tightened the last screw. I glanced over at the chain lock and decided that it could wait for tonight.

I slid one of my dining table chairs under the new knob as a precaution. I didn't think Ambrose would be back before I could get the rest of the locks squared away, but he'd surprised me a time or two before tonight.  
I crawled into my bed and slept terribly, waking up more than once covered in sweat with a scream dying on my lips. I was convinced several times that I wasn't alone in my bed; that Ambrose had come back for me.

I was awake for good at five that morning. I waited until the hardware store opened at seven, and spent most of my morning switching out the remaining locks. I bought a bar lock for good measure – I now had four ways to try to keep him out.

This was no way to live.


	7. Chapter 7

I was practically falling asleep at my desk the following Tuesday after Smackdown, trying desperately to get through the stack of paperwork that had managed to pile up throughout the past week.

I hadn't had a good night's rest since Ambrose had first shown up at my apartment, and it was starting to show.

He hadn't called or texted. He was either back in Cincinnati for the last week of his suspension and didn't know that I'd changed my locks…or he was well aware of that fact, pissed off about it, and plotting my death. Either way, I was grateful for the bit of silence.

"All right, Lizzy?"

I glanced up to see Sheamus standing in the doorway, his knuckles wrapped around the doorjamb. I managed to give him a small smile and a nod, both of which were interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn.

"Sorry," I said, covering my mouth.

"Long night?" He asked a bit too-casually.

I shook my head. "Just some trouble sleeping this past week. Happens to me sometimes," I lied. "Usually straightens itself out, but I might actually need to go see a doctor if it keeps up."

God, I was tired. I was being way too chatty. I needed to divert the topic away from myself. "What's up?"

"Bunch of us are going out for a drink. Care to join?"

I hesitated a minute. I knew I should say no. In truth, though, I was dying for a rum and coke. The booze might actually help me get to sleep.

"What the hell," I replied, shrugging and throwing down the paperwork I held in my hand. "I'm in. Where are we going?"

In all, the night didn't end up that badly.

Sheamus was, of course, all over me – or at least trying to be. I sat uncomfortably while he massaged my shoulders, attempting to carry on a conversation with an increasingly-amused William Regal. Such was my life.

Finally, I split away from him with a smile, excusing myself to make the rounds.

I greeted everyone, chatted for a few moments, and then moved on. It was going well until I saw Wade Barrett at the bar, nursing a beer and studying me.

I immediately felt just a little bit worried. I wasn't terrified like I was with Ambrose, but I knew that Wade was a dangerous man whom I'd recently lashed out at. It was a cause for concern.

I squared my shoulders. I had the opportunity to at least try to patch things up and earn some goodwill.

"What are you drinking?" I asked the Brit as I sauntered up to him in what I hoped was a casual manner. He showed me the label on his bottle. "Need a fresh one?"

He shrugged, his eyes still studying me. I got the bartender's attention and ordered two more drinks.

"Is this an apology?" He asked slowly.

"Of sorts," I admitted.

"Don't apologize. Give me my title back."

"Take it up with Heyman," I replied. "He's running the show now."

Wade nodded. "Good. I'm glad you came to your senses in that regard."

"He made a very compelling case," I replied dryly.

We were quiet for a few minutes, each enjoying our drinks. He finally spoke again. "Is he going to keep that lunatic away from you?"

"Who, Sheamus?"

I managed to get my first laugh out of Barrett. His eyes sparkled merrily at mine. "No, I meant the other one."

I shrugged. "Remains to be seen," I admitted. "I hope so."

"You didn't enjoy your time with him," he said flatly. It wasn't a question. I simply shook my head, going for another gulp of my drink. I wasn't sure I wanted to get into this.

He was a very shrewd man. "Are you all right?"

"I'm ok," I replied slowly.

"You look exhausted and you're moving much more slowly than usual. He's not stopping, is he?"

I studied him for a few moments, debating on what, if anything, I should tell him. "No," I finally admitted. "No, he's not. I don't quite know how to handle him. But I'm sure the answer will come in due course."

The conversation fell quiet for a few minutes. Barrett finally nodded across the bar in the direction of the red-headed Irishman, who was staring holes into the sides of our heads. "He certainly is ardent in his admiration of you. It looks as if he's attempting to give me an aneurysm from his position over there."

I laughed, staring down at my drink. "Another man I don't quite know how to handle. This was a lot easier before I started dealing with men twice my size with muscles as big as my head."

He grinned at me. "You certainly have had a bad run of luck."

"What a kind way of putting it, Mr. Barrett," I laughed.

"Would you like to change your luck?"

I tilted my head at him. "What are you suggesting?"

He stared at me for a few minutes. "I'm observant, Liz. I know you are trying to deal with Dean Ambrose's odd obsession towards you, which has manifested in some very harmful ways. I know you're trying to deal with Sheamus's annoying persistence in his pursuit of you when he's too stupid to understand that you're hurting. All I'm suggesting is one night. Let me take that memory of Ambrose out of your skin, and let me know that I've succeeded where that ginger couldn't."

I managed to laugh. "Are you serious?"

"Very," he said, nodding.

I hesitated a few moments, unsure of what to say. "This isn't some kind of trick, right? We're not going to get to your room and find Ambrose there ready to hit me with a baseball bat, are we?"

He shook his head. "No. I promise you. I quite simply hate Sheamus so much that I'd love to take what he wants, even if it's only for a night. I think you could benefit from it, too. Let me remind you how fun physical love can be."

I looked down at my drink, stunned. This was completely out of left field. I wanted to do it, I was surprised to find. Wade made excellent points. Besides, he was completely and utterly my type physically – the dark hair, the blue eyes, the ruggedness of his face. I wasn't going to attempt to discount that I was attracted to the guy.

I debated for what felt like a long while. It felt wrong to me. But everything that felt right ended in disaster. Maybe this would be the one thing in recent memory that would turn out ok.

I finally nodded. "All right. You're on. But if anybody finds out, I swear…"

He shook his head. "Discretion is the name of the game, my dear."


	8. Chapter 8

I made my way back to my hotel room very early the following morning, carrying my shoes and purse to keep the noise to a minimum in the hallway.

I was pleasantly surprised by how well the night had actually gone. Wade and I had left separately about an hour apart to not attract any undue attention. I met him in his room and we had sex. I know it sounds very plain, but it's the best I can think to describe it. It wasn't fucking, like it had been with Ambrose – and it certainly wasn't making love.

Wade had been skillful. I'd been concerned about my bruises and scar as I'd undressed, but he didn't say a word about them. He only laid a gentle kiss on the scar of Ambrose's teeth and very softly dotted kisses along my back.

The sex itself had been pleasant enough. I'd managed to have an orgasm, and Wade seemed satisfied. I'd fallen asleep afterwards, nestled into the crook of his arm. I slept in peace for the first time in a week, and I felt more myself this morning.

I snuck out when I woke up. I didn't want to hang around for an awkward goodbye. Not when I'd be seeing him in another week.

I slipped into my room and stepped into the shower. As I was coming out, wrapped in a towel, there was a loud knock at my door. I peered through the peephole and saw Sheamus standing there. I was relieved for a moment – I'd thought that Ambrose would be waiting for me.

I cracked the door open. "Hey. What's up?"

"Where were you all night?" He asked, his fists balled up by his sides. "I came to check on you when I got back and you didn't answer either your door or the phone. I was worried."

I shook my head. "Sheamus, I'm sorry. I finally fell asleep, and it must have been a very deep sleep. I feel so much better this morning."

The relief in my voice was genuine, and he seemed to sense that. He didn't need to know that I'd slept soundly in Wade's room.

"I'm glad that you slept," he said stiffly.

I sighed. I needed to do this now. "Look…this needs to stop. Ok? I think you're a great guy, and if the circumstances were different then maybe something could happen between us. But I'm GM. I lost my first GM job, and I do not want to lose this one. People are starting to talk about me around the office – first Ambrose, now you. I really can't have that. It's putting my job in jeopardy."

His shoulders fell. "I understand," he said, his face looking crestfallen. "I want to keep you around as GM, too. I'll back off. But, Lizzy…if things ever change…my feelings for you won't."

I managed to smile, clutching the towel around me even tighter. "I hope you find a girl who deserves you more than I ever will," I said, smiling. It was something I genuinely meant. I was just feeling all manner of agreeable this morning.

We said our goodbyes, and I went about getting dressed to go home. I was starting to pack up when there was another knock on my door.

I opened it without too much caution, and immediately regretted that decision as Dean Ambrose pushed his way into my room.

"Popular lady," he said sourly, his hands jammed deep in his pockets. "You spend last night with one man and have another visit you in a snit this morning. I am very…displeased, Elizabeth."

He moved so quickly. It always stunned me.

I was pressed against the wall, my chin in his hand. "Has nobody gotten the message yet that you're mine? What did you tell him about your scars, sweetheart? Did you make up some tragic accident for the stranger you met in the bar and would never see again? Or did you tell him the truth?"

It registered that he didn't know it was Wade. I was thankful to hear that.

"Accident," I managed to say around his hand. He stared into my eyes, and I could see the deep fury boiling beneath them.

He shook his head. "I am so disappointed in you. You've really gone out of your way to hurt me this time, and I can't sit by and let that happen."

He flung me onto the bed and climbed on top of me. I tried to fight him back, but within minutes he had me pinned. He ripped the bed sheets and blankets and secured me to the bed as tightly as he could, shoving a pillow case in my mouth again.

"I had all night to think about this, Elizabeth. I had all night to be angry. I was angry at him at first – the man who stole my Lizzy away. But then I realized," he said, beginning to pace back and forth at the foot of the bed, "I realized that it wasn't his fault. It was _your_ fault. He didn't know that you were mine. He had no way of knowing. You, however, are a different story. You knew what this would do to me – what lengths this would drive me to. You did it anyway. You did it with a complete lack of respect and regard for the man who loves you, and I cannot abide that."

He stopped pacing and climbed on top of me, grabbing my chin roughly in his hand again. "I'm going to make sure that any man you try to touch knows just who you belong to."

I heard a clicking sound and was terrified to see a pocket knife spring out of his other hand.

"Nobody will ever make that mistake again," he muttered angrily.


	9. Chapter 9

It was five minutes of agony.

I wanted to die. Probably more than I ever had in my life. I simply wanted to wink out of existence.

Ambrose stepped back to admire his handiwork, seeming pleased. He went to the bathroom and came back with a wet washcloth and began wiping the blood away from my stomach.

"There," he said, still eyeing my stomach critically. "Would you like to see it?"

I shook my head, tears running down my face. Why wasn't I dying yet? I lay there and tried to will it to happen, but my traitorous body continued fighting.

He strode around to the side of the bed and slapped me in the face. "Do you want to see it, Elizabeth?" He asked again.

I began sobbing in earnest, feeling more blood squeeze out of the wounds. "You're ruining it," he said like a petulant child, getting the washcloth and wiping away the blood again. "Now hurry up, before you fuck it up again."

He untied my hands and my feet quickly, then pulled me to my feet. I staggered, woozy from the blood I'd lost. He led me to the mirror on the bathroom door, grinning maniacally.

There it was – plain as day, and entirely readable even backwards in the mirror - deep red lines on my stomach that spelled out 'Ambrose.'

My world went black.


	10. Sequel

Hello everyone! Thanks for your awesome reviews. The sequel is up and can be found under the title "She's a Few Cards Short of a Full Deck." I will warn you - not as much crazy Dean in this story, BUT it's getting set up for the rest of the series. So please stick with me through this one. I hope you enjoy!


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